


More Certain and Confused than Ever

by status_quo_on_fire



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), College, Coming Out, Emo Keith (Voltron), Flirty Lance, Friends to Lovers, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gay Lotor (Voltron), Haggar is evil, Hunk & Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, Hunk & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, Internalized Homophobia, Keith & Shiro (Voltron) are Half-Siblings, Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, Lance (Voltron) in Denial, Lance thinks he's straight, M/M, Mystery, Orphan Keith (Voltron), Plot, Roommates, Skateboarding, Slash, Some Plot, Weed, gay veronica, keith and acxa frienship, keith is a sophomore, keith skateboards, keith smokes weed, klance, lance and veronica sibling dynamic, lance comes from a religious family, lance is a freshman, lotor and keith hookup, lotor deals drugs, lotor is a sexy queen, some keitor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23620288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/status_quo_on_fire/pseuds/status_quo_on_fire
Summary: Everyone thinks Lance is straight. Hell, Lance thinks he's straight. But Lance's roommate... well, he's gay. Lance wants to believe that's no big deal, but for some agonizing reason this detail of his life is impossible to shake from his mind.Keith is an emo skateboard stoner, or at least used to be. Lately, he's been working on his mood and his GPA. Things are easier said than done though when he winds up having a stupid-hot roommate that is cluelessly flirtatious and (ehm) very straight.Keith and Lance become friends though, and together they accidentally uncover a disturbing Altea University secret, which they channel their inner spies and investigators to untangle. Simultaneously, Lance flees from his sexuality and Keith hides from his obvious attraction for his roommate behind his charming (but bad-news) ex.
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Allura/Veronica (Voltron), Hunk/Shay (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lotor (Voltron)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 44





	More Certain and Confused than Ever

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fic, and it's taken me an embarrassing amount of time to write and has undergone at least five major plot revisions before I settled on this.
> 
> I'm super open to constructive criticism. I actually want this to be good and I'll take any opportunity to improve my writing.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> -
> 
> (I expect this to be around 8 chapters. Everything is basically written, but I still need to edit before I post.)

CH:1 INTRODUCTIONS

(he got high. (he got high blood pressure.))

(Keith)

The ceiling.. is white... and has... stucco designs on it. Right? … That’s what it’s called, maybe… Oh, and… tape! Has that just been clinging on the wall the whole summer, waiting to be noticed? It’s clear, but a little reflective. Probably hard to see sometimes. 

Keith finds himself standing on his future roommate’s bed peeling the tape off the wall. It doesn’t come off perfectly and leaves a spotty residue. He pokes at it and it weakly pulls at his finger. It makes a tiny little sound as he sticks and unsticks his finger. Strange. Strange tape.

Keith directs his attention back to his side of the dorm. It’s a little less white than the ceiling with the arrangement of papers and trinkets he’d put up for an attempt at decoration.

He should play some video games. 

Heh, well that was his original idea. But the opportunity has passed because here he is... walking down the Garrison Hall stairs to go outside. Really not an ideal place for gaming. 

Keith avoids eye contact with a blonde boy carrying a heavy-looking box. His eyes do, however, trail down to… jesus fucking christ legs. Keith flicks his hair out of his face and shoves his hands deep into his pockets to cover his overt once-over. Those are _short_ shorts.

“Hello,” a cheerful voice calls. Keith’s eyes shoot up to the boy’s face, whose eyes are brown and have long lashes. Hopefully he isn’t as flushed as he feels.

“Hey.” Keith takes out a hand to give a small wave in passing. Wait, what’s in his hand? Headphones... Funny how he’d forgotten. A humored smirk creeps onto his face. 

Yes, now we’re talking. Keith plugs in the headphones. The Strokes... going to listen to The Strokes... Keith scrolls through their music while he opens the door to the outside. The clean and loose drums of the album opener float through his head. The sun feels good. It prickles his air-conditioned skin. 

It’s going to be a good year. He had already decided that, but he tosses the idea around his head a few more times for good measure. 

He smiles again. Maybe it was a grin. Probably.

Suddenly he collides with a box of shoes.

“Oh my god I am so sorry!” 

“Shit, no, _I_ should be apologizing” Keith looks down at the girl gathering Nikes and Vans scattered across the sidewalk. Mortified, he yanks out his headphones and drops down to help. “Uh, wow. Sorry, I wasn’t really watching where I was-”

“-Ahh my new Converse Veronica! Look!” Keith turns his attention to the commotion of a tall boy in a blue shirt cradling a blinding white shoe that he’d rescued off the ground. He’s shoving them in the girl’s face, frowning at something. 

“Dude! It is just a smudge! Calm down, my friend!” She -Veronica apparently- lightly pushes him out of the way with her elbow. Blue shirt boy furiously rubs his fingers on the shoe, apparently trying to scrub off the smudge.

“Yeah, it’s ok I guess,” he shrugs, holding it out to observe at an arm’s length. Blue shirt boy throws his voice over his shoulder, “Hey dad did we end up bringing any lunch or should we hit up that taco place we passed down the road?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I was already planning on the tacos. They looked pretty good, right?” A very tall man, three kids, and a woman with soft features are catching up to the shoe scene. Keith looks back down to scan the sidewalk. All the shoes have been gathered. He stands up.

Keith’s gaze drifts around the crowd that is gathering. It’s a lot to take in, actually. An assembly of olive and tan skin. A little boy and girl are chattering excitedly in Spanish, waving around a trash can and pillow they are carrying in. The man has several boxes stacked up in his arms. The woman has a few bags of food on one arm and a bag of hangers on the other. A teenage boy trailing behind kicks a rock with good aim, oblivious and in his own world.

Keith’s eyes linger again on blue shirt boy. His complexion sparkles with the sunshine of an entire summer. His body is lean but fit. His eyes seem to shine with a smile, no matter what expression he holds, which had gone through an assortment of emotions in the short time he’d been watching. His eyes are blue. Striking. The boy finishes saying something to the woman and his eyes flick to meet his gaze. Keith inhales sharply.

“Sorry about your shoes.” Keith says. Confusion briefly flashes on the boy’s face, then with humor he looks like he suddenly remembers. How did he forget about all of that so quickly?

“Oh! No big deal. Don’t worry about it at all, really.” He smiles easily. His teeth are straight and white and... wickedly beautiful. 

He realizes he’s staring. _God. This man is from my dreams,_ Keith thinks to himself. Probably. There’s a chance he said it out loud. Blue shirt boy looks away for a second and runs his fingers through his hair. It looks like a nervous tick, but is insanely sexy nonetheless. Then he looks back at Keith, apparently expecting him to do something except stare. The heat from Keith’s face creeps toward his groin.

Damn he is horny as hell. Maybe getting high on move-in day wasn’t such a good idea. 

Keith nods his head curtly in farewell, shoves his headphones back in, and strides away before things get weird. Well, weirder. 

Fuck he still has to meet his roommate.

* * *

(our life is incredibly good.)

(Lance)

Lance picks up the last of the 3x5 prints. It’s a picture of Nico last Christmas. He’s looking through the camera like he forgot it was there, smiling vaguely at something. His wavy hair is sticking out in all directions. The picture quality is a little shadowed and blurry, but Lance loves it all the better. He sticks it to the wall, covering up some ugly tape residue. Why doesn’t everyone just use wall putty? It’s so much cleaner and way more effective. 

“Alright, are we ready for some food?” his dad says, clapping his hands together and rubbing them in anticipation. Lily and Miles look up from their spot on the ground where they were ripping a plastic bag to shreds. They were getting a little restless.

“Yeah yeah yeah food!” they cheer, clearly waiting for this exact moment. Lance flops down from the bed to retrieve his shoes. 

“Wait! Almost done,” Veronica calls from the door across from Lance’s bed, where she had been organizing Lance’s toiletries in the bathroom. Lance scoops Miles off the floor, ready to leave. His stuff is mostly all unpacked. That’s nice, but now he doesn’t really know what to do for the rest of the day. He’ll figure something out. His eyes scan the cramped room. Oh, the door is open. Lance looks up, and his gaze meets a familiar wide-eyed expression looking back at him under a fringe of dark hair. He has the orange Garrison Hall lanyard hanging from his grip. _Spacey emo dude_ is his roommate? 

Lance doesn’t know how long they would have just stood like that if his mom hadn’t noticed him in the doorway and began introducing herself as Melissa and her husband as David. They shake hands and ask friendly questions. Veronica comes out from the corner and her mouth drops open when she sees who it is. 

“No way! You’re Lance’s _roommate_?!” She tucks her short hair behind her ears and extends a hand, “Veronica. - though we’ve already met.”  
Spacey emo dude still has this faintly stunned look on his face but he takes a hand out of his pocket and completes the handshake.

“Keith.” He nods his head shortly and straightens his mouth into a tight line after he says it. Keith’s eyes drift back to Lance.

“Oh, ah… Lance- I’m Lance.” He gives a friendly wave and smile. “And... this, is my brother Miles,” he says, gesturing to the five-year-old in his arms. “And Lily”. He points to where she is on the ground. 

“And I’m in second grade now,” she says, sprinkling some plastic bag bits in the air to watch them flutter down.

“And this is Nicholas. We call him Nico. And yeah, the fam… Sorry, there’s a lot of us in here. We were just about to go eat actually”.

“Alright McClains let’s get going!” his dad says clapping his hands together again.

“So nice to meet you,” his mom says, smiling and touching Keith’s shoulder lightly. 

Miles wiggles from Lance’s arms and runs after his dad out the door. Everyone trails out except Veronica, who is grabbing handfuls of plastic bag bits off the ground. Lance considers helping, but she’s far enough along that she would finish collecting them all by the time he got on his hands and knees, so he waits in the doorway.

Lance glances at Keith. He’s watching Veronica, but not in a _seeing Veronica_ way, just spacing out. Again. Maybe he was a little socially anxious? Just having a weird day?

“Hey, be nice to my brother,” Veronica says in a joking voice to Keith as she picks herself off the floor. She walks toward Lance, wagging her eyebrows teasingly. “You’ll need all the help you can get if you ever dream of Lance forgiving you for his sad, smudged shoe”. Her voice chokes off at the end as she falls snickering on Lance’s shoulder. 

“Oh my God Veronica it’s just my frikkin shoe.” He shoves her from him and quickly shuts the door before any more damage is done. The door doesn’t creak or anything, and shuts with the faintest click. Huh. That’s probably why he didn’t notice Keith arriving at first.

Everyone clambors into the weird family van, a Toyota Previa, and they finally take the trip down the street. Nico is fixing his hair in the reflection of his phone while dodging Lily, who is giggling and trying to draw on his face. Miles is leaning forward in his booster seat, attempting to reach into the bucket of RedVines on the floor. Veronica is sitting next to Lance in a relaxed position, tapping her fingers to their mom’s salsa music CD. It’s all messy, and loud, and beautiful. A sad smile melts onto his face. 

Wow, it’s going to be hard to leave this. Like, he knew it would be, but he was so excited for the change and for college, but now that it’s really here…

He watches his dad adjust the rearview mirror; the cross that hangs there swings back and forth. They meet eyes in the reflection. His dad’s eyes crinkle, and he winks.

Lance breathes out a laugh and looks out the window with glistening eyes.  
He takes a deep breath.

Okay.

* * *

(secret kid)

(Keith)

“Do you know where the floor kitchen is?” Lance asks, holding up a jug of milk and a bag of food essentials. Keith fumbles to pause his game and pulls an earbud out.

“Oh, uh- Yeah, it’s… left, and down at the end of the hall”.

“Thanks”. Lance turns to the door. 

Keith fidgets with the earbud between his fingers.

“And- uh, Lance,” it’s the first time he’s actually said his name and it doesn’t slide out easily. “I have a mini fridge too if you want to use it”. Lance smiles over his shoulder.

“Thanks”. 

Keith watches him slip out of the room. 

Oh god. _Oh my god_. Keith drags his hands down his face and falls onto his pillow. Blue shirt boy is his ROOMMATE. They have to sleep in the same room. They have to change in front of each other, to shower with only a thin curtain veiling nudity. They’re going to hang out _all year_ in the same room. 

His gay will never survive.

He should have spent his money on a private room. He knew something like this would happen. Curbing the risk of a stupid hot roommate should win every time against saving a little money.

Plus, smart move, Keith. With the weed. Really smart. He mentally punches himself. He wasn’t really thinking about how it would affect him, he just didn’t want to waste it! He’d found the stash while he was unpacking, probably leftover from that party with Lotor and his friends at the end of last semester. He legally couldn’t keep it in the dorm, and why would he throw it away? 

...Maybe he’ll have to hit it off with Lotor again. They hadn’t talked all summer but that doesn’t mean... Keith flips his phone back and forth between his hands. It starts to buzz and he jumps in surprise, dropping it.

_Takashi Shirogane_

Keith begins to swipe to answer, but pauses to look at the caller ID picture. It’s the two of them, but smaller. His hair looks so short.

“Hey Shiro”

“Hey brother how did moving in go? Sorry I couldn’t stay and help very long,” Shiro says over the sound of some wind.

“Yeah, good. It’s ok”

“Are you all unpacked? Have you met your roommate?”

“Yeah. He’s- good. Freshman. Hey how was date night?”

“Oh it was so g-” The wind stops and Keith hears the sound of a door shutting.”Wait what do you mean _he’s good_?” 

Shit. 

“Um fine? Like, I don’t know why we wouldn’t get along… Don’t know a ton about him yet. We’ve only talked for like ten minutes.”

“Is he cute?”

“Cute? Shiro! He’s my roommate!” Keith lowers his voice, “who also could be coming back to this room at any. moment.”

“But ok _is_ he though? He’s got to be! You’re avoiding a direct answe-”

“Shiro, he’s _straight!_ ”

“Wowowow how are you so sure about that? Did you ask him?!”

“Look, I mean… do you want me to try to date my roommate? That just sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.” Shiro is chuckling on the other end.

“No, no I guess not don’t do that... Is he nice though, Keith? Is this year going to be a bit better than last year?” He hesitates. “...Like would he be cool with you being gay and stuff?”

“Yeah he seems nice. He’s got all these little siblings and a bunch of family pictures on the wall. It seems like they get along really well. He speaks Spanish. He said his parents are from Cuba,” Keith stops rambling and rolls his eyes. “I’m not worried about that Shiro it’s my dick that I’m worried about.”

“Oh my god Keith It’s going to be O.K.” Shiro laughs, but it sounds like a sigh. “...You should date around a little this year. No one is going to know what a great guy you are unless you talk to them. I’m serious. It could be a lot of fun. You have a lot to offer Keith” 

“Mh, yeah. I don’t know. I don’t really…” Keith pinches the bridge of his nose. “You _know_ I don’t like dating.”

“Hey I’m just trying to put you out there a little. You said you wanted to do a few things different this year, to try some things out. Now you have a sick bike all the dudes are going to want to ride. Just meet some new people... join a club… go to some parties… just-uh... don’t get involved with that shithead Lotor again, ok?” Keith snorts. 

“Ughhh I guess…” Then more serious, “yeah I know.”

“Okay Keith. Call me if you need anything. I’m just an hour away.”

“Alright, I know.”

“Stay safe. Find all your classes.”

Keith smiles at his concern.

“Bye Shiro.”

“...Bye Keith.”

Keith locks his phone and falls back onto his pillow. He looks down at his game at the other end of the bed. He doesn’t really feel like playing anymore. He closes his computer with his foot, then closes his eyes.

* * *

(v cool)

(Lance)

Lance ends up trading Snapchats with at least five people while he initials his groceries with a sharpie at the floor kitchen. It’s only just reaching evening, but by the time he makes it back to the room Keith is asleep. Lance turns off the lights, and climbs onto his bed, careful not to make any sound. He doesn’t really know what to do. He’s bored, like he suspected he would be. 

From the dim light escaping through the blinds he observes what will be his space for the next two semesters. The room seems nice. Keith gets a window by his bed. He also gets the closets too. Well, Lance gets one of them, but it’s farther away. Keith definitely has the better side. He probably deserves it though, as the more senior roommate as well as the one who checked in to the dorm first. At least Lance has control of the lightswitch on his side. He also has the advantage of coming into the room and falling immediately to his left onto his bed if he ever so wished. Lance also has the door to the bathroom on his side, though he’s not sure if that’s a pro or a con. He decides to check it out, since he never really got the chance to earlier. 

It’s expectedly cramped, but nothing he can’t live with. It’s only two of them here anyways. There’s another door to the toilet on the left side, a sink in the middle, and the shower curtain on the right. 

Lance brushes his teeth, not really because he wants to fall asleep yet, but out of a lack of anything else to do. 

Then he watches a movie with his headphones on his bed.

Then he double-checks his schedule. 

Then plays Tetris. Then studies the pictures of his family on his wall. 

And looks at the things cluttered on Keith’s wall. And glances at Keith’s laptop, sitting dangerously close to the edge of his bed. He wonders if he should move it. 

And looks at the white ceiling for a long, long time.

Man, it’s weird having some stranger roommate.

* * *

(today was another calmly nihilistic experience)

(Keith)

Keith stands at the bathroom mirror and watches his eyes blink. He reminds himself of his pierced ears with no studs in them. He looks at his emotionless expression. No one’s ever outright told him, but he knows he has a serious case of RBF. He observes his hair falling over his face, almost completely covering one eye. Maybe he should cut it. 

Is he lucky or unlucky? Set for success or doomed for failure? A genuinely good person or lazy? Too many unanswerable questions. 

Too hard to think about when-

Lance turns off the shower and sticks his hand out the curtain to grab the fluffy towel hanging next to it. 

-yeah. When Lance.

Keith puts a dollop of toothpaste onto his toothbrush. Lance slides the curtain over and walks toward the bedroom. Lance says hey. Keith mistakely glances at him in the mirror with a mouthful of toothbrush. Lance has the towel loosely wrapped around his hips. He’s soaking wet.

Lucky or unlucky? That is a great question Keith.

“Hey Keith,” Lance calls from the room, getting dressed. “You doing anything today?”

“Nope.” He can’t think of anything.

“Since you’re an all-knowing sophomore would you mind showing me around the campus? I have no idea where anything is yet.”

Should be fun enough. “Sure. When?”

“Maybe right now? I don’t know. I’m pretty bored.” 

Keith spits foamy toothpaste into the sink. “Ok. Just give me a minute.”

Keith rinses his toothbrush in the sink and opens the mirror to grab his deodorant, only to be thrown off by the magnitude of products that had grown since he placed his singular stick of deodorant inside yesterday morning. Four different types of lotions, an array of face masks, oils, men’s x-tra light concealer… what even was an exfoliator?

Keith uses his deodorant and places it back in its corner, careful not to knock down the half a dozen colognes next to it. 

* * *

So Keith and Lance share a morning together, taking the stroll weaving through the buildings of Altea campus. They had just finished checking out the various floors of the library and were heading back down to get some lunch from the cafeteria.

“Keith, do you skate?” was Lance’s next question in his almost exhausting string of get-to-know-you queries. 

“Used to,”

“No way!” Lance looks like he just uncovered Keith’s biggest secret. “I knew it!”

“What gave me away?”

“Well it’s obvious, really, with your flippy hair and clothes that look like they’ve been through emo rehab.” 

Keith snorts, “What do you mean, _emo rehab_?”

“You know, like someone sent them to recover from their edgy emo past and they came out fairly normal looking, but deep inside they’re still nothing but Hot Topic picks from 2006.” Lance is giving him this playful grin that Keith can’t look at for too long.

“Ok, first of all, 2016. Second, this is literally a plain black t-shirt. How the fuck can you tell that it’s from Hot Topic?” 

Lance lets his laugh ring out in the library staircase. “Keith, dude, you were totally an emo kid! Oh man, I can’t believe you are literally wearing something from Hot Topic right now. That was just a lucky guess honestly” He touches Keith’s shirt as he says it, and Keith looks away. “So why did you quit anyways? Skating I mean.”

“Broke mine in half last year and didn’t feel like replacing it.”

“Didn’t feel like it?”

“Yeah. Must’ve realized it was the end of an era or something.” Keith raises his eyebrows sarcastically and looks at Lance. “-Had to go to emo rehab.” 

“Hey!” Lance shoves him in the shoulder, then sticks his hands in his pockets, looking at the floor, still smiling. 

Touchy. Lance is touchy.

They exit the library and cross the pavement to the cafeteria. Keith squints his eyes. If he were the type to wear sunglasses, today would be the day to wear them.

“So,” Lance begins his questioning again. “You’re from Texas, right? How was the _emo_ tional scene in Lone Star State? Were you in some skater gang or something?”

“Well, originally from Texas. I moved around a lot though.”

“Oh. Parents in the military or something?”

“Well- no…” Keith braces himself. He may as well tell Lance now rather than later. “Foster homes and stuff actually. Mom was never really in the picture, and my dad died when I was ten.”

“Oh.” Lance looks like he watched someone kick a puppy. “I’m sorry. That’s- That’s terrible.”

“I know. It’s ok though. It was a long time ago.” Lance doesn’t look convinced.

“But the foster homes and stuff, like do you have any family or anything now?”

“I have a brother. A half-brother. We found each other online about three years ago.” Lance’s eyes light up. 

“That’s super cool. Are you guys close at all?”

“Well, I came to this school because it’s only an hour from him and his husband.”

“Hus- Oh, wow that’s really great actually.”

“And they’re in the military,” Keith says, looking sidelong at Lance’s bewildered expression. “Anyways, this is the cafeteria. Did you get a meal plan?”

Lance looks like he hasn’t been given near enough time to recover from their conversation, but he nods anyways and they turn to the menu to decide on some food.

After they eat Lance peaces out, saying he has to meet up with a high-school friend at another apartment. When Keith gets back to his room he realizes he’s feeling much too nervous about the upcoming semester to calmly sit by himself in his room, so he fetches his helmet and takes a ride out past the city and into the open countryside. 

Keith loves everything about his motorcycle. He loves the faded red color. He loves the smell of gasoline when it starts up. He loves the worn leather seat. He loves he glove cut-offs he wears with it. He loves the sound of chugging fuel when he accelerates out of a corner. He loves customizing and fixing it. He loves escaping with the wind ripping through his shirt.

The bike had only been in his possession for maybe four months now but Keith can’t even picture what life was like without it. He’d gotten it from Shiro’s elderly next-door-neighbor Demetrius while he was staying at Adam and Shiro’s place over the summer. 

On his walks back to the house after work he would pass the old man sitting on his porch every night, smoking his cigarettes and listening to soul fm radio. They always just said hello to each other until one day Demetrius waved him over and said, “Young man, why you always be walking around?” and Keith had replied that he didn’t have a car. Then Demetrius took him into his garage where they rummaged around an old Chevy and collections of tools until they arrived at a dual sport motorcycle collecting dust. As Demetrius told him about it through a cloud of smoke with a deep and slurring voice it slowly dawned on Keith that he intended it to be for him. With shaky hands he ran his fingers along the damaged spokes and suspension, explaining the needed work for it to run properly. Keith left that night with a list of parts to buy, barely needing to speak more than two sentences himself. 

For the next few weeks they worked in the garage together, the soul radio swirling quiet melodies with cigarette smoke into the warm summer night. The old man had moved his porch chair next to Keith’s workstation, and while Keith did all the heavy work Demetrius explained the processes in slow-paced metaphors and overarching concepts. Even though Keith had never had much opportunity to work mechanically like this before, Demetrius’ methods fit with the way his mind works. Once Keith understands the basic idea of something the details tend to fill themselves in intuitively. If he ever had a specific question he would just bring the part to the old man, who would explain the technicalities with his trembling hands. 

Sometimes Demetrius just hummed to the music in his smoker’s voice. Sometimes Keith got a detailed history of Otis Redding or Ray Charles and their music legacy. Sometimes when Keith was done repairing for the night he would sit and fiddle with a tool while Demetrius recounted military stories or descriptions of his dead wife. And once Keith fixed the bike enough to ride it, he continued to stop by for opinions on how to clean something or to use Demetrius’ tools to install a modification.

Those had been healing months for Keith. His teenage angst stepped back and made sense of itself like an impressionist painting. Keith had been able to process things without them becoming too emotionally charged to handle.

For as long as Keith can remember, it had been his anger that controlled him. Anger when he stole his first skateboard from the display outside a second-hand store. Anger when he took his first hit of weed with his outcast friends under the high school bleachers after-hours. Anger when he got in a fist-fight with his homophobic foster dad at the time. Anger when he entered his information into a website to find his mom. And when he found his brother instead, anger when he didn’t tell anyone about it and spent most of his money on a one-way plane ticket to meet Shiro. 

And now the relative control and calmness of mind he had found was freeing. Life still is never without its complications, but at least now there is a way for all of the unchangeable things in the past to be okay. 

Keith gets back to his room around dusk and reviews his schedule for tomorrow. Fifteen credits isn’t the most manageable thing he’s put himself through, but it isn’t the hardest either. 

He’s in the middle of changing into something more comfortable when he hears Lance’s voice coming down the hallway among the chatter of a few of their neighbors. Figures. Lance would be the type to already have friends. Their door clicks open and Lance’s head pokes into the room.

“Hey Keith, wanna watch a movie?”

Keith feels naked even though he’s still wearing boxer shorts.

“No, I’m good tonight.” He slips his concert tour shirt over his head.

“You sure? It’s with these guys,” He sticks a thumb out to point behind him.

“Yeah it’s ok.”

“Ok.” 

Lance looks at him a second longer, then disappears out the door again.

Keith _does_ want to watch a movie though, and he situates his pillow and blanket for optimal watching on his bed. He settles on _God’s Own Country_ , the newest queer movie obsession Adam and Shiro were going on about. It was apparently a cinematic masterpiece and an example of a simple plot turned captivating by good acting: a compelling enough description for Keith to want to watch.

It starts out gradual, but the build eventually tunes the rest of the world away and all that’s left to Keith is the movie. There’s raw emotion. There’s angst. There’s sexual tension...

By the time the two leads get together Keith is… well, Keith is feeling the effects of an unsatisfied need... that began with a poor decision he made yesterday… amplified by his close proximity with a certain impossibly attractive and cluelessly flirtatious… 

Keith pauses the movie. He balls his fists up. He bites the insides of his cheeks. Slowly, he drags his hand up the inside of his thigh. It’s been a while since he’s done anything. He hasn’t gotten a good make-out for months. Hasn’t gotten laid since… He closes his eyes and touches himself. Keith inhales sharply through his teeth and takes his hand back, glancing at the door. Fuck. _fuck fuck fuck fuck_. He can’t do this right now, right here. Not a good idea not a good idea. He grabs a fistful of his blanket and squeezes his eyes together. 

After a minute of silent panic, Keith hears Lance’s voice coming down the hallway again. He pinches the bridge of his nose. Of course Lance’s crowd-pleasing flick would finish before Keith’s pretentiously long film. Keith closes his laptop. The rest of the movie would have to wait.

* * *

(hopeless in good humor)

(Keith)

First day of classes and Keith is handling things alright. Beginnings of semesters were never his favorite, but at least his Monday classes are the interesting ones.

Second day of classes, however, and all Keith has to say is fuck math. He already has an assignment he doesn't exactly understand. His professor is weird. He doesn’t want to do the assignment. He really would like to pass the class. He _needs_ to pass.

Like a lightning strike sent from Zeus Keith walks straight into one of those little ads stands scattered around campus. Mocking Keith with its Comic Sans font it reads: _Math got you down? Come visit the math lab in room LPB 40!_

Keith glares at it. He glances up. _You’ve got to be kidding me._ The classroom is literally ten paces in front of him. He has no excuse now. Fate has decided for him. He will complete at least his first assignment.

Keith debates for a second on whether or not he can just forget he saw anything. He can’t. He never was the forgetting type. He grimaces and walks into the room. 

The classroom is like an abandoned bomb shelter: stocked and prepared for disaster, nevertheless utterly lifeless. Keith fills his cheeks with air, looking around at the motivational posters and whiteboards. Eventually his eyes land on the math tutor at a table in the corner of the room, asleep. He lets the air out of his cheeks. Cool, ok. It’s alright, he can just… Keith spins in a small circle once, not sure what to do with the now useless courage he mustered up a minute ago.

“Oh! Hey, welcome to the math lab!” Keith whirls around to see a large Samoan guy in the doorway. “What can I help you with?” Keith looks at the plate of cookies he’s holding, then back up at the Samoan guy. He’s wearing a yellow bandana and has this smile that gives Keith the impression that it’s not unusual to see him offering dessert.

“Uh, math?” Keith glances back at the tutor sleeping in the corner.

“Oh,” the guy eyes the tutor. His eyes crinkle and a laugh begins to shake his chest. He looks at Keith like they’re sharing the funniest moment of the decade, then walks over to the tutor and slides the plate next to her. 

“Pidge,” He blows on her face. “Coo-kies. I have cookies,” He takes one and pokes her cheek with it. With that she bolts up and rubs her eyes under her glasses. It takes her a second to gather the situation, but once she sees the cookie in Hunk’s hand she snatches it and gives him a death glare as she begins to eat it. 

“Fuck you, Hunk.”

“I love you too,” He says wryly, sharing another humored look with Keith that Keith doesn’t know what to do with.

“Umm, I have a math thing- assignment,” Keith tries, feeling like he’s somehow ended up in the wrong room.

“Right-o,” says the guy apparently named Hunk. “Eat some of these and we’ll take a look at it. Oh yeah, I’m Hunk by the way, and this is Pidge,” He gestures to the short girl next to him, who is now looking a little less peeved.

“Keith,” Keith says, a pretty sufficient introduction. Keith finds the assignment and sits down, feeling as if he’s been bribed like a little kid. He trades the sheet of paper for a cookie and waits for the math wisdom to come. 

“Ok Keith, so it looks like we’ve got a combination of graphs and proofs,” Hunk says through a mouthful. “How familiar do you feel with either of those concepts?”

“Uh, I don’t know, it depends,” Keith says, not knowing how to elaborate, but knowing it was a true statement.

“Ok,” says Pidge, “let's just start with question one.”

They make it through question one, and two, and slowly it dawns on Keith that it wasn’t the concepts he didn’t understand, it was the textbook process and rules. 

“See?” says Pidge excitedly, “You get this, you’re smart, you just have to apply your thinking to the structure of the class.”

“But that’s stupid! I got the answer, right? I don’t get these weird little formulas and stuff.”

“Yes. You’re right. You’re _so right_. But... if you want the grade you have to do it in a way that Professor Huntsman or Slentz or- I don’t know who you have- but you have to do it their way if you want to pass decently.”

Keith slouches in his chair and grabs another cookie.

“I’m going to drop out.”

“Keith you’re not going to drop out.” Hunk says, eyeing him steadily. “You’re going to come to our math lab any time you don’t get something and you’re going to get this math credit.”

Keith drags his hands down his face. He sighs.

“Ok.”

“Ok? So you’re coming back next week?”

“Yeah?” He looks at Pidge. She’s not having it. “...Or sooner. This place is literally on my way back from Slentz’s class. I can just finish the assignments as soon as I get them.”

“Ok!” Hunk puts his hand up for a high five. “That sounds like a winner if I’ve ever heard one!”

* * *

Keith makes his way back to Garrison Hall with his stomach growling for an overdue lunch despite the enormous amount of cookies he’d eaten. Hunk and Pidge were pretty cool, he’ll admit. He might go back. He has at least a chance at success.

Keith grabs one of his pre-made sandwiches from his mini fridge and walks around the room scrolling through the latest on r/alternative. His phone buzzes.

_Snapchat from Lotor Kharitonov_

Keith freezes. 

He swipes the notification up, not ready to see whatever Lotor has to say. Well, Keith didn’t think Lotor would be the first to reach out again, that’s for sure. 

Keith finishes his sandwich, then strips his shirt and pants and heads for the shower. He only makes it halfway there before his curiosity gets the better of him and he spins back around to grab his phone. 

He opens the snap. It’s of Lotor’s beautiful face, of course. He’s looking at the camera with lidded eyes and an expression that could read as nothing else but ‘I want to have sex with you.’ The caption eloquently says _hey Keith_. 

Keith stares at it for much too long before clicking off his phone and marching to the shower. He hastily takes off his underwear, flinging it across the room, and turns the shower to blazing hot.

How dare Lotor assume that Keith would so easily let him back. How dare he try to worm his way back into his routine, into his college experience. The _arrogance_.

Keith foams his head up with shampoo then stands under the stream of water, letting it sweep his hair down over his face.

But then again, that was just Lotor’s style. His flair for the dramatic. Natural sex appeal without even trying. Playing the game of attraction like he invented it.

The first time Keith noticed Lotor was at an off-campus house party last year. It was one of the more elaborate ones he’d been to, with subwoofers and mood-appropriate lighting. Keith’s main motivation for going was that he heard someone was selling weed.

He was chilling at the edge of all the action with two friends from English class who were getting shit-faced on tequila. Keith was mostly people-watching but he indulged himself in a few drinks. His gaze kept drifting to one guy in particular with platinum blonde hair past his shoulders. His features were shockingly pretty. He seemed to somehow be the life the group surrounding him even though he wasn’t actually saying much. Throughout the party Keith continued to enjoy his view from afar, stealing secret glances. Except, the next time he looked over, he was staring back. Keith’s mouth went dry. His slight blush from the alcohol was overtaken by one three shades darker. 

After they broke eye contact Keith decided it was time to find this dealer and get out of there. He took another shot, or two, and discreetly asked around until someone told him they could set him up. Keith was led through the hordes of reckless chatter and people. People were losing their pants. Discarded beer cans littered the floor. Keith was careful not to slip. The thumping of the bass in his chest grew stronger as they made their way closer to the speakers.

He was brought to Lotor, of course. Keith kept his cool as well as he could. Lotor said all his stuff was at his apartment half a block away. Keith said it was alright, he could get it somewhere else. Lotor objected. He wouldn’t mind the walk.

Lotor was aloof and flirtatious all in one. Keith didn’t know what to do with himself. He kept his hands in his pockets and his voice steady as the party noises faded behind them. They talked about all the idiodic things they were leaving people to get themselves involved in back there. They laughed a bit. Lotor was all lip bites and prolonged stares. Keith used the hair covering his face as a shield of sorts. 

They took the stairs up to Lotor’s room. Lotor lightly touched his arm as he closed the door behind them. Keith stopped to look at a poster on his wall. Lotor stood closely behind him, explaining it. Their height difference was obvious at this proximity. Lotor touched his arm again. His touch lingered. He touched the small of his back. He hovered closer. He dragged a finger up his chest, up his neck, traced his jaw.

Keith forgot about the weed.

_Slowly turning around, Keith leans against the dresser behind him. Lotor begins to close the distance between them. He dips a thumb into Keith’s waistband. Unhurried, he moves his face closer to Keith’s, smells Keith’s hair, bites Keith’s earlobe, teeth clicking against his earring._

Keith presses his back against the shower wall, breathing heavy and watching the steam fill up the bathroom.

_Then his nose traces along his cheek until their lips brush. Lotor’s fingers follow his hip bone down to his upper thigh. He licks Keith’s lip. He slides his other hand into Keith’s hair._

Keith closes his eyes. He feels the water pound against his chest.

_They lock lips. Keith has experienced his fair share of this with other guys but nothing quite compares. Keith feels wanted. He feels needed. He feels like a necessity to life itself. Lotor snakes his hands up Keith’s torso. He drags the shirt with it. It falls to the ground a moment later. Lotor’s shirt follows soon after. They’re chest to chest. It’s skin. It’s alcohol. It’s dizzying lust. It’s wandering hands that are getting more desperate._

Keith drags a hand up his thigh. He touches himself.

_Lotor unbuckles Keith’s belt and pulls the front of his pants down. He kisses his neck. He kisses his chest. His tongue drags down his torso. He gets down on his knees._

Keith rolls around and presses his forehead against the shower wall.

_He’s weak. He’s so so weak. Keith has always been weak._

_Lotor's lips around him. Lotor's tongue in practiced motions. Moaning. Breath on his abdomen. Faster. Faster. Keith loses all control of his body. He grips the top of the dresser with both hands._

_Fuck fuck fuck_

Keith feels like he’s going to faint. The floor is slick. He keeps his balance.

_Keith’s pants come down further. He touches Keith’s body like he owns him. Lotor goes in deep._

_Fuck_!

Keith presses his hands and face into the shower wall. The water steadily splashes onto his back. It doesn't feel quite as hot anymore. His breathing evens out. 

After a minute or so he collects himself, rinses the jizz down the drain, and reaches for his towel. He puts it over his head, rubbing his hair dry. 

Control. Lotor likes complete control. He’s good at it too. Things only happen if and when he wants them to. Parties stop or go. Alliances form and break. You get drawn in or left behind. Keith isn’t sure if he’s in for the ride this semester.

**Author's Note:**

> So!!! That's chapter 1! I don't know how I feel about the introduction in general, but stick around because I like where things go the next few chapters. Things start to get more plotty chapter 3ish.
> 
> -
> 
> (Klance is OTP but I'm having some fun with some Keitor. Lancelot is good too, but I couldn't find a way to fit that into the story.)


End file.
